Hero
by MicroMidgett
Summary: “This is Captain Rogers, do you read me?” The boy with the shepherd’s had witnessed everything this man had done for the world during this war, and all whom he had saved. The spirit watched the depths of the sea approach as the Captain forced the aircraft downwards to its cold, dark, deadly embrace to save yet more lives. Jack refused to let the hero die like this.


_This strange plot bunny somehow created itself and burrowed into my head, refusing to go unwritten, so here's an interpretation of how these events happened._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the idea._

 _ *** * * linebreak * * ***_

"Come in! This is Captain Rogers, do you read me?"

The boy with the Shepherd's staff flew alongside the battered airship, the frigid air of the altitude not bothering him in the slightest, yet managed to cause a spike of concern for the one who was not so resilient to the cold as he. The child with snow-white hair glided alongside the hulking mass of metal, taking in all of the viscous gaping holes and savagely twisted metal of its hull and outer armour alongside with the various sections that were simply _torn_ from the ship itself. Bullet casings littered the surface and underbelly of the craft while more damaging dents were present along its side, accompanied by huge scorch marks. He watched the man inside the cockpit through the sections of glass still-intact as he desperately spoke to those on the other side of the transmission.

The boy hadn't seen it all, but he had seen enough. He had been there in the mountains towards the end, his keen eyes watching the battles taking place below him shed blood on both sides with their feats of technology astounding him to no end. One might think that he would have immediately ran - or _flown -_ in the other direction as soon as he saw what was going on, but this ethereal boy did not flee. During he first times he had witnessed it, the boy would run as far away from the bloodshed and killling as he could as it was just so _horrifying_ to see that much _death_ before his very eyes.

But after so many years the boy had gotten used to war and the death that accompanied it. Numb to it. He stopped trying to stop the bloodshed because either way it would resume with or without his prevention attempts. This boy had seen as much, if not more, war and blood than the eyes of many living soldiers themselves.

It was only natural for a spirit who had existed for around 250 years to experience death. Especially for the Spirit of Winter, the keeper of the season of death.

Especially for Jack Frost.

This war was an interesting one, though. A war with what they called "magic" with an artifact that held immense energy - enough to wipe out thousands if used properly (or improperly, depending on how you looked at it). The boy set himself down on the sleek metal of the ship beside the front screen of glass and sighed. He tried to keep up with the world these days but there were some thugs that he simply couldn't - _shouldn't -_ understand. But, in the end, if he could count on one thing to stay the same throughout the years then it would be war and all that accompanied it. The death and bloodshed was always the same, one side would emerge victorious while the other had to begrudgingly accept defeat over whatever they had fought for in the first place. Sacrifices made.

And that's what was happening here.

Captain Steve Rogers was a man that had appeared on Jack's radar almost as soon as he had started making his appearances on the battlefield. "A Supersoldier," they called him, and when the spirit finally came across him in his travels he found that he could not deny their claims, for Rogers certainly was super. It had given Jack hope and a bit of excitement to see such a warrior on the battlefield, saving comrades and bringing the end to the horrid war closer with every step, and at some point along the line Jack found himself hoping and wishing that Steve Rogers would survive this war and be received back home as a hero, as he always wanted to be. The Winter Spirit - for the first time in a while - had found someone that he genuinely started believing in and began to _trust_ as a good man, even if the the Captain would never see him in return.

At first Jack hadn't wanted to get involved in getting attached to people in wars - or people in general - because unlike him, their lives were fleetingly short and so easily ended - _especially_ on battlefields. However, as time went on he found that he couldn't ignore the man that was bringing hope and wonder and dreams to those around him as he saved countless many with his humble acceptance and continued to help those with the gifts that he had.

Perhaps the spirit had been so intrigued because this _mortal_ human could provide more for the people of the earth than Jack ever could with his abilities. Captain Rogers did so much to help when Jack was causing problems and (occasionally) _death_ with ice and snow, even if it wasn't necessarily his fault. In the end though, Jack couldn't help but pray for Steve to survive, even though Jack was experienced and smart enough to know that the chances of his survival were slim. Nevertheless, Jack was rooting for him.

But then reality struck. It was happening… _again_.

" _What about the plane?"_ He vaguely heard a feminine voice speak from a distance.

"That's a little bit tougher to explain."

Jack felt his hands tighten on his staff and he sat hunched on the roof of the plane, frustrated with himself for not being able to help, frustrated at himself for beginning to _hope_ that Rogers would survive a second War of the World…but most of all he was frustrated with himself because he was _still hoping that Captain Steve Rogers would survive this, damnit._

" _I'll find you a safe landing site."_ The female insisted, refusing to accept a different outcome.

Yes, please, let him land safely and survive after all he has done for you.

"There's not going to be a safe landing."

At the Captain's reply, Jack gripped his staff even tighter to the point where he could hear the wood creaking under the stress. He was upset, because he understood exactly why there couldn't be a safe landing, and he didn't like it one bit.

"There's not enough time, this thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York."

He bowed his head to touch the crook of his staff and closed his eyes in remorseful sadness.

If only there was anything except city-destroying explosives on that plane. Then, perhaps, he would stand a chance.

"I've got to put her in the water."

That is what startled the spirit. He opened his ice-blue eyes and turned to the blond man in the cockpit with eyes of a similar blue, though not as cold. Of course he should have expected that _Captain Steve Rogers,_ the _supersoldier_ would make such a sacrifice for the lives of millions, but it was the means that had startled the Winter Spirit. In truth, he did not remember much before his first moments of breaking through the ice and the moon raising him up, but what he did remember of his first moments of his spirit life was darkness, cold and _fear._ Fear of the pitch black surroundings around him that seemed to twist and snarl at him like a sentient being that spawned panic in his mind at the danger, but also at the deep sense of _nothingness_ that surrounded him. He was isolated, alone, with nobody to comfort or reassure him that he wasn't the only one in this world and that he wasn't doomed to a meaningless life of isolation. (Well, turns out he did live a life of isolation anyway - but that's beside the point.) He had felt the overwhelming sense of emptiness and an unbearable feeling of cluelessness as ice-cold waters (that didn't affect him) pulled him along in their depths. Quite simply…he had been _terrified._

"Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere - if I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die."

Jack in fact didn't notice, but they were both nearing the end in the waters expanse and would soon be in reach of New York. The fact that this man would be forced to experience the same _fear_ and _darkness_ as him didn't sit well with the Winter spirit. No, his hero deserved something _better._

And yet the steadily decreasing altitude of the aircraft suggested otherwise.

Slightly panicked, Jack got up form his hunched state and stood in a sort of surfing position along the wing of the aircraft with his knees bent and arms stretched out slightly to keep his balance. He wanted to do _something_ to help, but a stubbornly set, determined voice that wouldn't be swayed or argued with gave one last line that stopped him from moving any further.

"Peggy, this is my choice."

Jack wasn't too sure who 'Peggy' was but the words resonated within him as though they were spoken directly _to_ him. The fact that this man - no he's more than a mere man - is selfless enough to subject himself to that _cold-dark-empty-terrifying_ fate of drowning in those icy depths sent another wave of respect and emotion through the Winter spirit.

Sure, he knew that Steve Rogers was far from innocent - he was in the army after all, he _killed_ people - but in Jack's eyes he was only doing what was necessary for the good of his people, including _dying_ for them…and that act of heroism deserved so much _more_ than a hopeless and watery grave. The Spirit finally found himself able to move again and scaled his way along the aircraft until he came across a gaping hole in the glass windscreen, entering through the jagged mess and not concerned in the least about the shattered glass that stabbed into his bare feet. He made his way across the debris-littered floor until he stood beside the Captain, a cold hand hovered above his shoulder as close as he could get it without it passing straight through, as if he was trying to prevent the man from going through with this painful decision, or perhaps to give a gentle touch of comfort to the man who had so selflessly sealed hinself to his foreboding fate. Maybe, if his hand had been able to sit on the Captain's shoulder, it would be a sign of comfort to try and put the man at ease. If the spirit was able, perhaps he would give this soldier a pat on the back in honour to spur him on, or maybe he could have hugged the hero so that he could take comfort in knowing that he would not be alone when the time came.

If only he could have any sort of contact with him to show that he would not face the pain and darkness alone.

But that would never happen, no matter how hard he could beg the moon to let it be so. This man was doomed to this fate, but would do so as a saviour of America, and of multiple other nations at that. Maybe the hero would take solace in that. Maybe Captain America could find comfort in knowing that he had helped the world all he could, and even though his demise was impending, this final act was worth it.

Maybe he could find peace knowing that he had truly earned his title of Captain America, saviour of the people.

If the man was going to go through with this and sacrifice himself, and even if he wouldn't know that the spirit was there, the least Jack could do was make sure that he wasn't alone - well not completely. Despite being deep in these thoughts, Jack was still aware enough to hear the crackle of the radio again and the sweet, emotional voice that echoed through it. The comforting voice of what he could only assume was Peggy sounded, talking to the Captain about dancing as if it were just another normal day where they would all return home that night and wake up the next day and continue _living_. He admired her efforts in keeping the conversation conpletely normal as if one of them weren't about to die. It seemed to give Steve - no matter how little it was - a sense of comforting normalcy.

 _"Peggy. I'm going to need a rain-check on that dance."_

And he was going along with it.

" _Don't you dare be late. Just_ be there."

They really were trying to make this moment last.

"We'll have the band play something slow."

And Jack's heart cried at what he was hearing. He couldn't remember anything about his past, about his family (if he even had one) and that made his current situation bareable, because he didn't have anyone to miss…but Steve _had_ someone. Someone by the name of Peggy who was _crying_ for him because she knew what was about to happen. Steve and Peggy didn't deserve this.

But what could he do with those icy depths steadily approaching? He was only an unseen, unloved Winter Spirit whose only connection to this man was the nightmarish scenes they had both witnessed in battlefields. Maybe if he was a different spirit with a different power he would be able to do something…but right now with only the element of cold and ice that would be the killers of this hero, he couldn't think of a way that his power could save a life instead of killing one, like it had done to so many others before.

Because Winter, and all that comes with it, is a season of death. That had never been so agonisingly clear.

The young spirit clenched his fists in unwilling resignation, his right hand in a white-knuckled grip around his staff. Not wanting to accept his powerlessness, yet knowing that there is nothing more he can do, he looked down again at the Captain to see the unflinching determination and acceptance that would be present in his face in hopes that maybe it would reassure the spirit about his inability to help. Looking over however, the spirit found many more emotions on display on the man's face that were not hidden in the slightest, as he thought he was alone inthat aircraft. There was nothing wrong with that per se, but the spirit saw something on his face that frankly (even though it shouldn't have) shocked the spirit. He was expecting to see fiery determination with an edge of unwavering courage portrayed on Rogers' face…but - while the determination was there - he found another emotion overshadowing the courage that he expected to be there.

Fear.

Captain America was afraid of dying.

Jack didn't know why he was so shocked at this as he himself only a few moments ago had admitted how terrified he was when he woke up in icy depths surrounded only by darkness.

Maybe it was because he had seen everything that Captain America had accomplished in the war; how he unflinchingly stared down gun barrels and ran from explosions in his wake. Jack witnessed how skilled he was on the battlefield and how he appeared seemingly untouchable to his enemies while defeating entire battalions with ease. Jack had assumed that the almost inhuman hero of America wouldn't blink twice at the thought of staring at the face of death again.

But in actuality, Captain America _was_ _human_.

Captain America, the superhero he may be, is still _human._ He is still _mortal,_ and Jack suddenly feels like he's been punched in the gut. Everyone fears death, even superheroes, because as untouchable and inhuman as they may appear facing adversaries in life, death is an opponent that they know _nothing_ about. They can't anticipate what happens after life, or after death. They leave behind loved ones and lives that they wish they could have lived in for longer, and face the unknown.

Many believe that there is nothing after death, that no God or gods or devils will appear to take them to an afterlife, and that they will be stuck in a perpetual limbo of nothingness.

Jack isn't certain where Steve's beliefs lie, but he can see clearly the glint in his eyes and the furrow of his brow, and the struggle of his suddenly patch dry mouth to swallow any form of moisture it can.

Jack notices that when faced with the possibility of death in those bottomless icy depths of water below, Steve Rogers - hero of America - is terrified.

He's afraid of what it will bring, or rather what it will take away. He's afraid of being surrounded by the darkness with the light wrenched away from him, leaving him blind in the freezing stabbing depths of the bottomless ocean. He doesn't want to feel his life be stolen from him as the cold saps his energy and the void of emptiness and nothingness that the icy waters will bring. He doesn't want to feel the isolation from he world as he dies there alone with no one to look to for comfort (well what he believes is alone, but it's basically the same difference). He doesn't want to leave his lover and his life behind. He doesn't want to die like this.

But he'll do it anyway.

That's what hurts Jack the most. Steve Rogers is a human that is terrified of what he is about to do, but he is willing to do it so that the cost of his life could save millions more. A human that is so utterly powerless has made a choice to sacrifice himself to save so many while Jack sat back in resignation and acceptance that there was nothing he could do for the man.

But now when he sees the unadultered fear, but also _acceptance_ in the human's eyes, he knows that he can't just sit back and do _nothing_ while this man gives _everything_.

Steeling himself, the Spirit of Winter stood up straighter (well, as straight as he could with the jet hurtling toward the inky black ocean) and closed his eyes.

 _I will not let this man, this_ _ **Hero**_ _, die this way._

He could sense the icy waters approach with every second that passed. He focused and began to call forth as much of his power that he could muster in the short amount of time that he had.

 _I am the Spirit of Winter. I am the one who controls the ice and cold._

They were only seconds away from the surface now.

 _I hold the power to change his fate._

He could hear the Steve let out a final sigh. His final breath of life.

 _I will_ _not_ _let this man die by my element!_

The impact flung both passengers - one alive and one not quite sure - forward with a force that sent them both into the freezing water that broke through the weakened glass windscreen. Usung as much energy as he could, Jack released all of his gathered power and set it free upon the Captain. There was a burst of light - as there always is when he releases so much power at once - and for a moment the Winter spirit could not see anything around him.

His eyes slowly began to focus again, and as both passengers sunk deeper and deeper into the dark depths of the ocean, Jack saw what he had achieved. He followed the still-shimmering traces of magic that surrounded the Captain through the darkness as he sunk lower and lower into the depths with the aircraft that he had crashed here in order to save millions.

One may think that being encased in a block of ice was far less favourable than death, but from what Jack Frost had experienced first-hand, he knew that anything was better than experiencing those cold, empty and terrifying waters of hopelessness and darkness, and even if Jack hadn't died there as the Captain would have, Jack Frost's experience of merely waking up there was enough to scare him of that place. Captain Steve Rogers would not face that terrifying watery grave today, and that was enough.

While Steve however hadn't sustained any injuries from the crash because of the spirit's magic, Jack himself was completely exhausted after expending so much of his energy at once combined with the impact ether he ships metal floor that he had unfortunately taken. The last thing he remembered before leaving the water to recover was watching the man he considered a hero sink to the bottom of the sea along with his ship.

But maybe, maybe this way he would survive.

Maybe this way Captain Steve Rogers wouldn't feel the same darkness and fear that he had.

 *** * * _linebreak * * *_**

 _ **[A/N]** I think this is a story with just the right amount of logic that gives it a whole "okay, I guess technically it works / is plausible " vibe, but that's just my opinion and I'm the one who wrote the darn thing. _

_Anywho, I hope you enjoyed. I love writing one-shots like this, but if it's anything like my last story people might want more of it (still super psyched about that, btw) so I don't know if it will stay a one-shot. Up to you guys. Reviews make my day._

 _~Micro_


End file.
